After leaving Jack with his rum, I went across the deck to where the trapdoor was. To where I thought the trapdoor was. I hadn't realized how long I had spent explaining my predicament to Jack. The sun had fully set now, and the ship was completely dark save for the few lanterns being carried by crew members or hanging suspended by ropes over different parts of the deck.

I continued wandering across the deck, shuffling timidly, afraid I would bump into someone. Finally, my feet found the upraised border of the trapdoor. I heaved a sigh of relief and dropped to my knees to try to open it.

Of course, I couldn't lift the door. I groaned, exhausted and thinking of the bed below deck. I was so tired...and this stupid door was too heavy for me!

"Why me?" I moaned quietly, pulling up on the hatch as hard as I could. "Why me!"

I heard footsteps to my right and looked up quickly, not wanting to be caught whining. Mr. Gibbs was standing next to me, lantern in hand. Without a word, he bent down and lifted the hatch.

"Thanks...I guess," I muttered after dropping below deck, ducking quickly as he dropped the trapdoor.

I stumbled toward my room, dry clothes in hand. The heaving ship was starting to make me feel a little sick. I reached my door and opened it--and grabbed a nearby wooden bucket as an afterthought.

Once inside the familiar room, I realized that there was no light. Groaning, I set the bucket on the ground, hung my belt on the back of the chair, and threw the blanket and dry clothes on the bed.

I stumped out of the room, looking around for the nearest spare lantern. Fortunately, there were lanterns hanging all around the big open space my room and the "armory" were in.

I grabbed the nearest lantern and trudged back to my room, struggling to stay on my feet. I wasn't quite sure if my unsteadiness was from the swaying of the ship or from my exhaustion after this very trying day.

Once in my room, I gratefully changed out of my wet, 21st century clothes and into the dry, somewhat clean 18th century ones. These dry clothes included plain black pants that were about the same length as my cutoffs, but a bit looser than them, which had been a bit snug-fitting. The shirt was cream-colored and rough. It had long sleeves and the hem fell past my hips. It had obviously been made for a man, because the neck dipped in quite a low V. Fortunately, it still covered me.

I kicked off my boots and breathed a sigh of contentment as I crawled into the bed in my new warm, dry, pirate clothes. Pirate clothes, I thought sleepily. This is so weird...

And I fell into a deep sleep, gently rocked by the swaying of the Black Pearl.

When I awoke, I found that my lantern had burned out.

It must be morning, though, I thought, sitting up and stretching. There's a little light coming from above.

I yawned loudly, stretching again. When I shut my mouth, I almost retched.

"Ugh!" The taste of the rum was still on my tongue. I guess I hadn't noticed it the night before, but it was definitely there--and stronger--today. The bitter taste made my stomach heave almost as much as the Pearl.

With that thought of the ship heaving and swaying, I clapped my hand over my mouth, a cold sweat breaking over my body.

Okay, I thought, shaking a little. You can beat this. But if you do need to blow chunks, the bucket is right over the side of the bed. So all you need to do is--

I threw up over the side of the bed.

I sat there, leaning over the side of the bed, eyes closed for a moment. I hated vomiting. It was one of the worst feelings in the world, in my opinion.

I slowly opened my eyes to see my T-shirt and jeans covered in barf.

"Oh, come ON! I yelled, disgusted. The clothes must have slid next to my bed during the night while the ship was moving. Sure enough, I could just make out the bucked in the far corner of the small room, just next to the door.

Typical, I thought, shivering. Just friggin' typical. I have the WORST luck...

I heard a knock on the door. Horrified, I leapt out of bed and tried to push the vomit-covered clothes under the bed, but the door creaked open.

Jack stared at me, crouching on the floor, trying to hide some messy clothes.

"Seasick?" he asked, not looking surprised.

"Yeah," I mumbled, embarrassed. Why, why, WHY!

"Why didn't you just use a bucket?" he asked curiously, gesturing toward the small one in the corner.

"I tried," I said, sitting back on the bed. "I thought the bucket was there, but instead, I threw up on my bloody clothes..."

"Ah." Jack made himself comfortable in the chair. "I've had that happen before."

"Really?" I asked, finding this hard to believe. "You've gotten sick on your own clothes?"

"No, I've just gotten seasick. I don't know how you managed that," he said, nodding to the dirtied clothes.

"Touché." I muttered.

"Fortunately, I know how to cure seasickness," Jack continued, acting as if he hadn't heard me.

"How?" I asked skeptically.

"Work! You can help sail the Pearl."

"What!" I screeched. "How could that help anything!"

"Simple," Jack said, leaning back and propping his legs up on the bed. "It'll take your mind off it. Besides, as you are riding on my ship you are now part of the crew."

"But I--" I protested. He held up a hand to stop me.

"Sorry, Monica, but those are the rules. And the rules are the rules." He frowned as if realizing how silly this sounded and stood up. "Well! Come up for breakfast, then, and we'll get you started!"

He turned and left the room, waving his arms in that familiar way as if for balance.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. I couldn't crew a ship! What was Jack thinking? And he still didn't seem fazed that I was from the future. Did he even care, or had it not sunk in yet?

I shook my head as I came up with these questions, standing up and pulling on my boots. They were still a little damp from the day before, but it wasn't unbearable. I fastened the belt, hanging it on my right hip as Jack had. I couldn't help smiling as I thought about "badass."

Feeling a little better (but still crummy--now I had the taste of rum and vomit in my mouth), I made my way to the trapdoor. Fortunately, it was open. Maybe by Jack?

More likely by Mr. Gibbs, I thought. He always was annoyed with me.

I hopped out onto the deck and looked around, not sure of where to go for breakfast. I noticed some of the crew staring at me as they worked. I ignored their gazes and fought off another wave of nausea. This idea of Jack's better work, I thought grimly. Otherwise, I'll kill him.

"Monica!"

I turned to see Jack waving me over to his quarters. I started to go over, but instead clapped a hand over my mouth, looking at him in horror. I was about to upchuck in front of the whole crew!

Without stopping to think, I rushed to the side of the ship and threw up over the edge.

I was wiping my mouth, shivering, when I felt a comforting hand on my back.

"Here. Eat this," Jack offered, actually looking sympathetic. He was holding a green apple.

"Uh...thanks," I said, taking the apple. It reminded me of Barbossa. How many damn apples had he had on this ship!

I bit into the apple, juice running down my chin. I wiped it away quickly, surprised.

"Good, isn't it?" Jack asked.

I nodded, taking another bite. No wonder Barby was so obsessed with these! I thought. They're friggin' delicious!

"Well, once you're done with that, come find me. We're gonna need all the help we can get."

I looked up to see him staring up into the sky. He left without another word, leaving me staring up at nothing. It reminded me of the time he had done that in Curse of the Black Pearl, leaving Will and Gibbs staring at the sky.

I chuckled and continued eating Barbossa's apple, thinking about the movie.

The next few hours found me working on the ship. It seemed I had to do everything, from swabbing the deck to heaving ropes to adjust sails. It was exhausting work, but I was thrilled to interact with characters from the movie. However, I think Mr. Gibbs was less than pleased when I asked him if he enjoyed the opera.

Soon I was able to take a break to eat some lunch. The other pirates avoided me and left me alone.

Hey, it's just like at school! I thought jokingly, and then felt a wave of a different kind of sickness--homesickness.

I worked for a few more hours. This time, however, I was exhausted and distracted. I kept tripping over coils of rope and knocking buckets of water over.

Eventually, the sun began to set and Jack relieved me of my duties, leading me over to the side of the Pearl.

"Rough day?" he asked, watching me rubbing my eyes.

"Yeah," I said softly. I was still thinking about my life back home. Although it had only been a day, I missed it terribly.

"You look exhausted. You should get some rest."

"Yeah."

Jack frowned and turned around, leaning his back against the edge of the ship so he was facing me. He looked like he was struggling to find words to say. Finally, though, he managed to say, "Something the matter?"

I sighed and looked away, letting the moody teenager get the best of me.

"You're not gonna get sick again, are you?" Jack was staring at me, looking alarmed.

I managed a small smile. "No, you were right about that," I said ruefully, playing with my fingers. I wasn't ready to tell him what was troubling me just yet.

"Then what is it? As your captain, I'm ordering you to tell me."

I arched my eyebrows, miffed. "Alright. I'm homesick. Happy now?"

I went back to sulkily staring at the sea, avoiding his gaze. I saw a mortified look on his face, as if he really didn't want to deal with me but he knew he had to. "Well, you know how to cure that, love..."

"What? More work?" I scoffed.

"No…rum!" he said, grinning.

I gave him a scathing look. "That stuff is disgusting. Didn't you get the message last night? No, of course not, you were too drunk to notice! Don't you understand that alcohol makes you totally despicable! Doesn't anyone understand that!"

I stopped, tears in my eyes. I knew I shouldn't have blown up at him, but I had let my emotions get the best of me.

Great, now I pissed him off, I thought when he didn't reply. Then:

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to make you angry," he said softly.

I sighed in frustration and wiped a tear from my eye. "You don't have to apologize. I...I was being stupid. I shouldn't have blown up at you..." I trailed off, sniffling. "I hope you're not mad at me."

"Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?" Jack asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Because...I don't know. I've had a hard day, and I just got frustrated about the rum..."

"Why?"

I froze at this question, unsure of how to explain my feelings. I took a deep breath.

"My father was killed because of alcohol. The other man was drunk when he killed my dad."

Jack froze, too. "Oh, Monica, I'm sorry. I didn't realize--"

"No, it's okay. You don't have to apologize. You couldn't have known that, and it was wrong for me to have gotten angry with you. So...I'm sorry." I looked up at him, hoping he didn't think I was a loony.

He stared down at me, and then finally nodded. He turned back around to rest his forearms on the edge of the ship like me, and I noticed his burned hand.

"Oh, Jack, your hand!" I exclaimed. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Only a little." He didn't protest as I took it and tsked.

"Here, let me wrap it up." Desperate to move our minds from the touchy subject of rum and death, I cut a long strip of cloth from the front of my too-long shirt. Then, I gently wrapped his hand in it.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," he remarked. He didn't pull his hand away, though.

"Trust me, it'll get worse. I'm surprised you haven't gotten more burns like this one," I said, finishing the wrapping and tying a neat little knot on the palm of his hand.

"Well, I've never been dragged out of the ocean with a rope around my hand and a blubbering girl around my neck," he said with a small smile.

I smiled, too. "Shut up," I said, a grin spreading across my face.

"Captain!"

Jack and I turned around to see Gibbs walking towards us. He gave me a strange glance before speaking.

"Cap'n, we're on your set course, but there seems to be a nasty storm comin' our way," Gibbs said. It was clear from the look he gave me that he thought I had something to do with it. I arched an eyebrow and stared right back. Gibbs looked away quickly.

"Thank you Mr. Gibbs! We'll sail through the night."

Gibbs frowned incredulously. "But, sir, the storm--"

"We'll go through it," Jack said firmly. "I would like to get to Tortuga as soon as possible." He turned around to finalize the conversation. Mr. Gibbs walked off, shaking his head and muttering.

I turned toward Jack. "Tortuga?" I asked curiously.

He grinned. "Tortuga," he said.